by Grace, Hazel
Give this an honest chance.
He offers me a grin, then we continue talking about the hospital and how it’s overrun by exhausted people. He’s worried about how mistakes can easily happen with overworked doctors and nurses, but he says they're looking into hiring more people. He asks me about Dad’s business, how his recovery is going. If we could go back to the batting cages on his next day off, Tuesday, to loosen him up, and he promises me ice cream afterwards.
When the waiter asks about dessert, I order the biggest piece of cheesecake I’ve ever seen in my life, and we end up splitting it. Myles takes it upon himself to wipe an excess piece off my lower lip, but still, I feel no sparks.
I. Loathe. Colson.
While Myles talks about his parents, how they’ve been married for over thirty years, and his younger sister is finishing off her law degree, my phone begins buzzing in my purse. I ignore it, keeping my focus on the intelligent man in front of me, speaking excitedly about how proud he is of his sister.
“She had a pill problem that started when she was sixteen,” he tells me. “So, overcoming it and getting this degree is a big deal for her.”
“That’s amazing, she should be so proud of herself.”
“She is, my mother is elated. She wants to meet you by the way. I talk about you all the time.” I choke on my wine, slamming my fist into my chest.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Myles seizes, pushing his chair back to round the table. I hold my hand up, motioning for him to sit while I nod like a bobblehead.
“I’m...fine,” I force out. Myles slowly sits down, concern outlining his features as I stop coughing.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, yeah, wrong pipe.” I smile, fighting back the barrelling thoughts convening in my head about meeting his family. His daughter. Involving myself in other people’s lives when I’m so emotionally fucked in the head. “So, she wants to meet me?”
“To the point where you’d think it’s weird,” he confesses.
Yep, a little.
My phone buzzes again, and I’m silently cussing Skylar out in my head.
She’s back on her binge about Colson, asking why she hasn’t heard from him, what should she do. It’s to the point where I want to spill the beans and rub it in her face that we made out at his house so she’ll shut the hell up about him.
Sister of the year, yeah, I know.
Myles nods toward my purse hanging on my chair. “Need to take that?”
“I’m so sorry, I thought I put it on silent.”
“Take it, I don’t mind.” I pull the annoying device out of my purse and try to act normal when I see his name on my screen.
Colson: Be at my house in an hour.
And you trying to ignore me, ain’t going to work.
I casually try to exhale the breath I’ve been holding, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
How in the hell can he be serious about this bet? It was dumb as hell.
Me: I can’t, I’m out.
I shove my phone back into its place, trying to ignore the looming problem of my past.
“My sister,” I lie like a class-A bitch to my date. “She’s super needy. Not sure if I’d want you to meet her.”
He smirks. “She can’t be that bad.”
I raise a brow. “You wanna trade?” He shakes his head with a chortle. “You sure? I’ll just forward all her text messages to you.”
“I have enough messages on my phone and my pager from the hospital, but thanks.”
My phone vibrates again, and I stand from my chair. “Would you excuse me for a moment while I use the ladies’ room?” Myles nods, smiling.
He is the perfect gentleman and date, making me feel even more like an asshole.
As soon as I’m inside the restroom, I pull out my phone.
Colson: Let me guess, with the doctor.
Me: Good guess.
Colson: You got forty-three minutes, Bases.
Me: Not on your time, Hayes.
Colson: According to our bet you are.
Our bet.
Yeah, let’s talk about that.
Yes, I agreed to the bet.
Yes, I got too overconfident that he’d get all into the moment.
No, I didn’t want to go over there.
Why? Because I can’t get wrapped up in him again. He’s a force that pulls me into his vortex and smothers me. Sleeping with him would just make it worse. It took me forever and a day to get over him, and my life finally calmed. I could sleep, eat, go outside and walk around and not be reminded of all the places we went to as kids.
I could breathe again.
Or at least I could until he traipsed back into Freemont again with his overbearing and fuck-the-world attitude. It’s like entering into the Back to the Future time machine and reliving the same shit over and over again. Now, I’m wishing for a paradox, where my whole existence explodes making it where it never occurred.
Walking back into his house for the second time, suicide.
There would be no holding back.
No pretending or countering his truths that I try to bat away.
I would kiss him with everything I have, let him own every fiber of me for the night. I will do shit that I’ll regret in the morning, just to experience an hour of his touch, lips, and the buzzing that hums between us everytime we’re around each other.
The man that still holds a piece of my heart in his hands and a nook in my soul.
Me: And if I back out?
My skin crawls as I wait for his answer.
He is just a man, nothing more or less. For God’s sake, I’m a grown ass woman cowering like a scared little teenage girl all over again.
Colson: I can’t force you over here, Bases.
I sigh in relief. Thank God, he has too much pride to beg or whine about it.
Me: How about I get you to close on your house and your mom’s. Then we’ll call it even?
Colson: Sure.
I place my phone down on the counter next to the sink and inhale deeply.
That was easier than I thought it was going to be.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Colson was a whirlwind of surprises but accepting my “no’” so easily? Well, that was new. Maybe he took the high road nowadays.
Brushing my hair off my shoulder, I re-apply a layer of lipstick to freshen it up and examine my foundation in the mirror.
I just dodged a curveball, elated with myself that I stood up to him for my own self-preservation and didn’t cave.
Now, I just had to keep that victory pinned close to the front side of my brain.
Ten years ago
Focusing on Mr. B when Colson Hayes sits purposely behind you in class is hard. Especially because we haven’t spoken since he got me fired from Burger Joint and Gavin thought I fucked his best friend.
I can’t say Gavin’s text message didn’t hurt. He believed me after I explained, but I wish his mind didn’t already convict me before he heard the truth from me. The situation quickly escalated when Gavin showed up at my house with a bruised chin and tender ribs.
I knew they fought, heard about it through the school’s grapevine of gossip, and hated to admit that Colson had been right. Everything was falling apart.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I mindlessly tug it out of my sweatshirt.
Taylor: The plan is in motion.
I groan inwardly, even though I wholeheartedly agreed to this plan of hers. It was time to play hardball, if Colson thinks I’ve accepted his latest sabotage laying down, he was about to find out in the next three hours that I hadn’t.
Me: Roger that. I might need a security detail after this one.
“I’m passing out your next assignment,” Mr. B announces, counting out papers then passing them to students in the front row. “I want you to choose from the list of couples on the front page that have changed the course of history, whether it be in a negative or positive way. You can argue either side. Adam and Eve, Cleopatra and
Marc Anthony, King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Bonnie and Clyde, the list goes on. On the back, you’ll find your partner, everyone is listed out. Paper is due in four weeks and worth thirty percent of your grade.”
The classroom groans in disapproval, but Mr. B has been a teacher for so long he ignores it. Frank, the guy in front of me, hands me the remaining stack of papers, and I don’t turn around to face Colson as I pass them on back.
His long fingers graze mine, and just like every other time I have to hand him something, it sends a thrill of danger darting through my body.
Ignore it. He’s bipolar or something.
Flipping the page over, I skim for my name to find it...next to his.
My breathing becomes sporadic, the hairs on my arms stand on end because Taylor is outside in the parking lot doing something not so pleasant to his car right now. And, let’s just say, it’s not going to be well appreciated on the receiving end.
“I want the report double spaced, a thousand words,” Mr. B digresses. The classroom grows louder with their objection. “And valid. I want valid points on why and how you believe these couples changed the course of history.”
The bell rings, dismissing us for our next class, and I quickly shove my bulky textbook and notepad into my backpack. Students rise from their chairs, collecting their things, and I squeeze through the aisle to get out into the hallway. I’ll deal with this partner issue later because I have a bigger issue to handle right now.
I hastily pull my phone out the moment I exit Mr. B’s class, needing to send an SOS to Taylor.
Me: Abort the mission!! Something bad just happened.
I consider turning back to talk to Mr. B about changing my partner, but it would never happen. His decisions are never altered, and he gets highly offended when you try to suggest one.
I round the corner and feel the pit of my stomach ache in boycott. Not only do I have to deal with a moody Colson Hayes to get a decent grade on this paper, but he’s about to be way more pissed when he discovers my revenge for getting me fired and spreading rumors around school that I was a whore.
“Hey partner,” Colson calls out behind me. I pick up my pace, pretending I don’t hear him and that I have cloaking powers that make me invisible.
That thought rapidly fades when he appears at my side, making it impossible to brush him off now. I bite my lower lip so hard to keep myself under control that I feel like blood is going to gush out of it.
“Which couple do you want to choose?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, rubbing my forehead as I keep treading down the hall. “I haven’t looked at the whole list yet.”
“I’ll let you choose,” he offers. “Just not Bonnie and Clyde, I think a lot of people are going to want to do the whole gangster, villain thing.”
“That’s fine.” I take the steps up to the second floor, hoping he’ll just wander off to his next class.
“We should probably—” I whip around to face him.
“No.” I exhort, my tone sounding harsher than I wanted it to be. My anxiety is through the roof. Maybe I should go outside and make sure Taylor got my text message.
Colson’s brows furrow. “We’re partners, do you want to fight for the next four weeks or just plan this shit out and be done with it?”
“Later,” I voice, muttering this time.
“I want a good grade, Bases,” he sighs. “I don’t have time to fuck around.” I raise a brow but don’t mention his “waste of time” with the numerous antics toward me. He needs a scholarship, I need one too, but I don’t care about what he needs.
I blow out a breath. “Fine. When?”
“After practice is fine.”
“I can some days, but I help my mom cook on Tuesdays because she has book club.”
“Okay. I can’t do Thursdays or Fridays.”
I clench my teeth. “Why, because you have parties to go to?”
His whiskey-colored eyes thin. “No, because I have shit to do. And yes, sometimes there’s a party, but I can blow them off.”
“Fine,” I settle. “I’ll look at the list tonight.”
“Alright.” He adjusts his backpack. “I’ll text you later, and we’ll figure out a good day and time.”
“Let’s just keep it strictly pertaining to school stuff,” I censure. “You’ve been abusing your text privileges.” The one-minute warning bell goes off before he gets to respond, and students scatter through the halls to get to their next class.
But Colson stays glued to his spot in front of me, a torturing silence falling between us, which I guess leaves me to make the awkward goodbye.
“Well...I gotta go,” I utter, waiting for him to say goodbye to me.
He doesn’t, just continues to stare at me.
Dropping my gaze, I whirl around, feeling his eyes bore into my back. I pick up my stride and duck into my next class, feeling like a moron.
Shocker of the year.
I’m a mess over being his partner and the events happening outside with Taylor, while he’s mellow, relaxed, and in for a big surprise.
Settling into my assigned seat, I drop my backpack on the ground and blow out an exasperated puff of air. Then my phone vibrates in my sweatshirt again.
With the school-wide “no cell phones in class” rule, I peel it out of my front pocket and hide it under my desk.
Colson: Is asking you if you want pizza after school abusing my texting privileges?
I glare at my phone.
Me: Yes.
Colson: How about if you pay for yours and I’ll pay for mine?
Me: I’m in class, Hayes.
Mrs. Schollenburger has us open our Psychology books, which has me thinking that I really should start paying more attention on ways to deflect Colson’s behavior.
Colson: No shit, so am I.
I ignore his sarcasm and listen to Mrs. Schollenburger lecture about bipolar disorder.
Perfect segue.
Because the hot and cold attitude I’m getting from Colson seems to fit in this particular chapter.
“So, for our next project,” Mrs. Schollenburger announces. I clench my eyes closed and rest my forehead on my fist.
Another freaking project.
It’s our senior year, sure, there are juniors and sophomores in this class, but it’s early March. Two more months until graduation, I mean, come on.
Colson: So, is your silence a yes?
Me: No.
Colson: We can work on our project and eat—win/win, Bases.
Me: Sounds more like you’re trying to start crap with me.
Colson: I didn’t choose you as my partner.
And I didn’t choose you either, jerk face.
Me: Fine. One hour, we’ll pick our couple, make an outline, and decide who’s doing what.
Colson: Hour and a half, I don’t like being rushed.
Me: You’re pushing it, Hayes.
Colson: Don’t be a pain in the ass, Bases. Let’s just get this over with.
A piece of paper slides onto my desk, and Mrs. Schollenburger hovers over me. “Everything alright, Sawyer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I blurt a little too loud, hiding my phone further under the desk. She gives me a skeptical look before continuing down the aisle to pass out more papers.
My phone softly vibrates in my hand, and I hurriedly glance down at it.
Taylor: Now what?
Me: Please tell me you didn’t start.
Taylor: Okay...we didn’t start?
Me: Did you?!
Taylor: Are you chickening out?
Me: No, he just became my partner for a history project!
Taylor: Oh shit…That timing sucks.
Me: You think?!
You finished, didn’t you?
Just shoot me now, Taylor.
Taylor: We might need to get that security detail after all.
Fuck me. I’m a dead woman walking.
Ten years ago
Sawyer is wiping her forehead off with h
er T-shirt, exposing her flat stomach and the curve of her hips. I’ve watched her sprint around bases, do push-ups, and catch balls in the outfield.
She looks like she’s about to die.
Although, I’m going to be the executioner because I have her in my scope this whole practice about to pull the fucking trigger.
This girl cemented my fucking car around the flagpole in front of the school.
Cemented.
As in, used bags of Quikrete, that dries within an hour and will take half the day with a jackhammer to free my car up. Miss McMahon called me into her office in sixth period asking if I was missing something. I thought it was a trick question until she read my clueless look and displayed my trapped car through her office window.
Immediately, I knew who it was. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that it was Sawyer’s payback for getting her fired, letting Tracy tell her stupid little girlfriends that we fucked, and that she was a closet whore with a hunger for my dick.
Too bad the last part wasn’t true.
So, for the last two hours, I’ve had my glare laser beamed on her, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Except Gavin has been staying close on purpose. By now, everyone should know that my Ford Contour is a new decoration piece to the school’s front lawn.
When practice is over and our teammates begin packing up their gear, splitting as quick as they can, I get to watch Gavin lay a long kiss to Sawyer’s forehead. It’s like watching a bad rendition of Romeo and Juliet, a love that was forbidden and destined not to work.
And I’m the poison.
I stride toward them. I lost my patience hours ago, and I’ve got shit to do instead of watching them rub noses together.
“Bases,” I call out. She glances over at me, her skin paling when she sees me approach. I think I see her mouth motion “Oh God” as Gavin steps in front of her, blocking my target.
“The fuck do you want?” Gavin chides, crossing his arms.
“Wanted to personally thank your girlfriend here for plastering my car to the flagpole out front,” I reply.
Gavin’s face lights up with a smile. “Actually pretty fucking clever, right?”
“Yeah, pretty fucking hilarious. Since you enjoyed it so much, you can help me get it out.”
